


You've Got Mail (Good Omens style)

by tenandi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale as Meg Ryan, Crowley as Tom Hanks, Fluff, No smut...for once, OMG no smut?, SO MUCH FLUFF, Still really sweet though, finished work, you've got mail - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 21:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20032828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenandi/pseuds/tenandi
Summary: Struggling boutique bookseller Aziraphale hates Anthony Crowley, the owner of a Mega Books chain store that's moving into his neighborhood. When they meet online, however, they begin an intense and anonymous Internet romance, oblivious of each other's true identity. Fluff and misunderstandings ensue.Bonus: Death is a lawyer.Bonus bonus: <3<3<3





	You've Got Mail (Good Omens style)

PART ONE

“Mega Books?” Aziraphale choked in horror at the letter in his hand. It was an offer to buy him out, but it wasn’t going to work, not in the least. It was signed in flowing script by the owner, one Mr. A. Crowley. As if that attempt at personalization made a difference!

Aziraphale sniffed in disgust before crumpling the paper and throwing it toward the bin. For weeks he’d watched the neighboring shops shutter their doors and move on to greener pastures. The entire block had been optioned for a new location of the ever-growing conglomerate known as Mega Books. Apparently they had coffee shops inside...

Aziraphale growled under his breath. “Coffee bars! A book’s best companion, indeed, slopping brown stains on every precious page! Bah!”

A.Z. Fell Books had been started by his grandfather, a beloved bibliophile who had passed the trade to his son and from him to Aziraphale. After being in business for three generations, he was hardly going to trade a check for his family’s legacy. Indeed, the bookshop would remain. Other businesses be damned. Mega Books be damned!

To distract himself, Aziraphale got on his computer and logged into the dating site he’d been frequenting as of late. It wasn't that he really craved company so to speak, but lately he’d been wondering if ‘getting out there’ as his friend Tracy put it was worth the effort.

So far the results were dissatisfying. He continued to receive a number of solicitations from men who were clearly looking for sex rather than an actual relationship, and the endless stream of ab-pics was hardly doing it for him. Aziraphale wasn’t interested in nameless hookups. He was looking for something real. Something romantic…

He’d just about given up when he saw a new message waiting in his inbox. Addressed from username Snek6k, the subject heading was a simple: “Hello!”

Aziraphale clicked it and was rewarded with a thoughtful letter that showed this suitor was interested in getting to know him, for once. He clicked on the profile picture and was pleased to see a partial view of a man’s face behind dark black sunglasses. No flexing abs or bulging biceps, just a real person with a slightly cheeky smirk on his face.

Sighing in relief, Aziraphale was preparing a message to send back when he noticed Snek6k was online. He clicked the instant message box and sent a salutation. He could see his own profile picture ensconced in a small bubble: a hand wrapped around his beloved winged mug on top of a book. Username: AngleFace.

Aziraphale was elated when Snek6k wrote back more quickly than he’d imagined. After a few brief opening remarks they fell into amiable conversation. Aziraphale talked about his favorite recent novels while Snek6k followed up with how terrible each movie adaptation had been. In short time, Aziraphale was laughing more than he was typing.

Not being the most tech savvy, Aziraphale kept their conversation brief and suggested they trade electronic letters. Snek6k was only too happy to oblige, admitting that text conversations were not his favorite thing in the world, either. Hopeful and excited, Aziraphale offered to write him something that evening after work. They both signed off and the shopkeeper smiled warmly as sunlight filled his shop.

His happiness wouldn’t last for long, however, as his eyes fell on the bunched-up mail that had somehow missed the bin. He uncrumpled it and read it through again, as if the message would have somehow miraculously changed. Because it hadn’t, he threw it back angrily into the trash, meeting his mark this time round.

Aziraphale huffed around the shop with barely contained annoyance as he straightened the shelves. He was still grumbling when the bell tinkled, indicating a customer had come through the door. In a flash, Aziraphale peeked around a dusty bookcase at the new arrival.

A dashing redhead was circling round the front in an exquisitely tailored suit.

A low whistle emitted from the man's lips. “Quite a place you’ve got here,” he said to the seemingly empty air.

Aziraphale emerged from the stacks and regarded the customer suspiciously. “Thank you,” he breathed.

The man had his back to the owner as he examined a pile of first editions. “And taste to boot,” he added, trailing a finger over the spines. He turned to greet Aziraphale properly, and stiffened on the spot. Aziraphale surveyed the man, trying not to be taken in by his handsome appearance. Customers were not to be trusted after all. Not until they’d passed his varying and elaborate tests. Did they have proper conservation skills? Did they know such books must be handled with gloves? And the like.

The redhead broke out an effortless smile and extended his hand. “You must be Mr. Fell?"

Aziraphale frowned petulantly but shook on it. “I am. And you are?”

“Anthony,” the man replied. “I’ve heard a lot about this place. I must say it exceeds expectations.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but note the beautiful golden glint in Anthony’s dark eyes. He cleared his throat as if to erase his admiration. “I must admit some surprise,” he countered. “I didn’t think the shop had such a reputation. We’re a bit more inner circle, as you can see.”

Anthony nodded and took himself for a stroll around the shop, prompting Aziraphale to follow behind him closely.

“Looking for anything in particular?” the shopkeeper asked blandly. He’d already decided this was a bestseller paperback-type rather than archaic rare literature aficionado.

“I am actually,” Anthony responded.

Aziraphale’s fingers intertwined behind his back. Hm. “We don’t carry the Da Vinci Code.”

Anthony flashed a smile and shook his head. “An excellent guess for those who have no taste.”

Aziraphale was intrigued. “Are you a collector?” he asked.

“I’m in the business,” Anthony replied. “I’ve been surrounded by books my whole life.”

Aziraphale smiled for the first time, causing Anthony to knock an E.E. Cummings off the shelf in surprise. “Saved it!” Anthrony was already crying out as he caught the runaway tome. Azirphale gasped in relief.

Anthony returned the book to its natural habitat and regarded Aziraphale as if an idea had started to percolate in his brain. Whatever it was, he kept it to himself. “Well,” he stated. “I haven’t found what I’m looking for today. Perhaps another time.”

Aziraphale winced. He would have asked what the man sought more directly, but that might mean parting with one of his precious volumes. He nodded curtly instead. “Good day to you then.”

Anthony made his exit somewhat reluctantly. He stopped at the door and looked back at the shopkeeper. “And you, Mr. Fell.”

With a wink he was gone. Aziraphale inhaled slowly. Thank heavens he hadn’t been forced to make a sale. That man...looking like that...could have nearly tempted him.

-

That evening, Aziraphale cuddled up to a hot cup of tea and began his epistle to Snek6k. He wrote about his job in retail (somewhat vaguely, being an online conversation), and his recent troubles with competition in the vicinity. He detailed some of his favorite restaurants, and was particularly attentive to the variety of spices that thrilled his palette. Lacking any other true hobbies, he spoke at length about his favorite novels, and the difficulty he’d had tracking down a few evasive manuscripts. At long last, he asked a few questions for his new friend. What parks did he frequent, if at all? What were his keenest interests? How did he feel about moral arguments? Aziraphale signed off contentedly. He did so love correspondence.

Of course, he favoured written letters, but this was a huge step forward for him, and that felt gratifying at any rate. It was enough to reach out online for now.

-

Later that week, Aziraphale let Tracy drag him to an event at her publishing company. Apparently some new author was making waves in the literary world, and the release of his next book was not to be missed.

“It’s going to be fabulous,” Tracy promised. “And who knows? You might actually meet someone!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he slipped into Tracy’s limo. He tended to forget her enormous success from time to time, but it didn’t give her the right to interfere in every aspect of his personal life.

“I’ll have you know that I did meet someone. Er, sort of,” he said defensively.

Tracy’s eyes widened. “Did you check out that site I was telling you about?” she asked with enthusiasm. Aziraphale nodded, prepared for the squeal she emitted.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

Aziraphale knew better than to conceal anything from her. Tracy had an other-worldly, almost psychic ability to read his thoughts, it seemed.

“Well, we’ve been trading e-letters,” Aziraphale explained.

“Emails,” Tracy corrected. “Go on!”

“E-mails,” Aziraphale repeated. “And he’s just so lovely! We’re both passionate about books, which as you know is at the top of my list. And he’s funny. Witty, really. He seems very keen on everything I have to say.”

“Will you meet him? As in real life, I mean?” she asked.

Aziraphale fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat. “Perhaps,” he replied slowly. “I’m just enjoying our conversations for now.”

Tracy smiled as the limo came to a stop in front of Madame Publishing Ltd. in Canary Wharf. She and Aziraphale made their way inside where the party was already in full effect.

“Just in case things don’t work out with the digital guy, don’t forget that there’s plenty of eligible bachelors here at the launch,” she chided.

Aziraphale glanced around the room to confirm her theory. He didn’t really see anyone who particularly caught his eye. He sighed and excused himself to find the buffet table. A little snack was just what he needed.

He’d just spooned a few shrimp on his plate when a man approached from the side.

“Oh, terribly sorry,” Aziraphale said as he moved out of the way. He was surprised to see the gentleman named Anthony who’d visited his shop the other day. Anthony looked just as nonplussed to see him.

“Mr. Fell!” Anthony said, a charming smile gracing his features. “I didn’t know you came to these things!”

Aziraphale looked at the floor and back up again. “Oh, well, not usually. A friend dragged me along.”

Anthony glanced around as if to spot the person he came with before settling his eyes back on the shopkeeper. “Where’s he flown off to, then?”

Aziraphale blushed. “Oh no, a she, actually. And just a friend, really.”

Anthony looked satisfied at the reply and lifted his shoulders noticeably. “Well,” he said. “In that case… I wanted to ask you something. I was going to the other day, but I suppose I...didn't have the courage.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale wondered aloud. “Did it have to do with the book you’ve been looking for?”

Anthony grimaced. “Er, no. Not as such. I really just wanted to ask if you’d like to have lunch with me sometime.”

The two shared mutual blushes as Aziraphale struggled to answer. They’d only just met, but Anthony seemed a nice enough fellow.

“I’m flattered,” he replied earnestly. “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

Anthony beamed. “Lovely! I’ll come round the shop next week. Let’s say, pick you up on Tuesday?”

Aziraphale nodded emphatically. “Alright, then!”

It was then that he noticed Tracy making a beeline toward them and waved agreeably. For some reason, she looked desperately out of sorts.

Anthony flashed his eyebrows and smiled warmly, causing Aziraphale’s stomach to flip a few times in response. Tracy reached him just as Anthony was walking out the door.

“Oh, Tracy,” Aziraphale gushed. “”You were absolutely right about meeting someone. That handsome fellow popped into my shop earlier this week, and now, can you believe it? Here we’ve run into one another again!”

Tracy’s face was pale. “You mean to tell me...do you not know who that was, Azira?”

“Anthony,” Aziraphale replied obliviously. "The man from my shop."

“No, Azira,” Tracy said, shaking her head. “Not just Anthony. Anthony Crowley.”

Aziraphale turned the name over in his head. Why did that sound so familiar? He paled in sudden realization. “Anthony Crowley...the owner of Mega Books!” he gasped.

PART TWO

Aziraphale didn’t know what to do. Tuesday was quickly approaching and he had no way to get ahold of Anthony to cancel their plans. He was so embarrassed. And livid! Surely Mr. Crowley must know about the corporation trying to shut down his shop! A horrible thought occurred to him then. Perhaps Mr. Crowley meant to seduce Aziraphale, or else tempt him to sign away his business in person. The idea turned his stomach.

Having little or no other option to vent his feelings, he jumped online and began typing into the instant message box to reach Snek6k.

“Terribly sorry to bother you this way,” he wrote, “But I’ve just had the most awful couple of days and could really use some advice.”

Snek6k was online and noticed the message immediately. “Tell me how I can help,” he replied.

“There’s a work conflict,” Aziraphale answered, absolutely pleased that Snek6k was available and punctual in his response. “I’ve run into the most manipulative person who is determined to destroy my business. I think he’s trying to trick me somehow, but I’m not sure what his angle is.”

Snek6k wrote back, “Ugh. How despicable! Why do you think he’s gunning for you? Did he say anything specific?”

Aziraphale considered this. “Not directly,” he wrote. “I just know it. He’s in a competitive business, and my failure would contribute to his success. It’s not personal, per say. Well...it is to me. For him it’s just another feather in his cap.”

Snek6k seemed to be thinking about his response. At last he typed, “I’m so sorry to hear it. Perhaps you could come up with a plan to thwart him?”

Aziraphale laughed out loud unexpectedly. “What would that even look like?” he asked.

“Idk,” Snek6k wrote. “Maybe try to beat him at his own game! Does he know that you suspect him?”

Aziraphale wondered what ‘Idk’ meant. He intended to look it up in the dictionary as soon as the conversation ended, but for now, he was intrigued by Snek6k’s idea. Perhaps he could ‘thwart’ his enemy. He could pretend to miss the association between the man and his company. Maybe convince him to leave A.Z. Fell Books alone. It might work!

He typed in his response quickly. “You’ve just given me an extraordinary idea! Thank you so much, as always. I’ll write soon to let you know how it goes!”

“Excellent,” Snek6k wrote back. “Don’t let him...oh what’s that charming American phrase? Don’t let him play you for a sucker!” Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at the idea.

Aziraphale thanked him and signed off after they had said goodbye. He immediately consulted his dictionary. The word he was seeking should have appeared just after ‘idiotism,’ but it wasn’t there at all. How curious!

-

When Tuesday arrived, Aziraphale let Anthony walk him all the way to the restaurant before dropping his most incendiary query. They’d just settled at their table in the quaint Italian nook when he asked, “You know, I don’t think I got your last name?”

Anthony coughed suddenly and signaled for the waiter. “A glass of Chardonnay, please,” he requested. “And for you?” He looked askance at Aziraphale, who ordered the same.

“Sorry,” Anthony rejoined. “It’s um...Crowley, actually.” His face went beet red.

Aziraphale maintained his composure and nodded. “Ah. My first name is Aziraphale, by the way. You don’t have to call me Mr. Fell.” He adopted his most carefree smile to offer encouragement.

Anthony looked like he’d been waiting for a guillotine to drop over his neck. With some surprise, he emerged from his hunched position and breathed more easily. “Why, what a lovely name,” he said.

“And uh…” Aziraphale continued. “What line of work are you in?”

Anthony cringed. “I manage a business,” he mumbled. “Really boring stuff.”

“Oh no, I’m terribly interested,” Aziraphale said brightly. He enjoyed watching his companion wilt before him. "What's your trade?"

“Um...all kinds of products, really,” Anthony ventured. “Books. Coffee and biscuits. Various tchotchkes and impulse buys. All fairly commercial. But I hate talking about myself. Tell me about you! Have you always been a great reader?”

The watier returned with their wine and set it on the table. “I’ll be right back to get your order,” she promised.

Aziraphale fumbled while trying to think of a lie, but the truth was he wasn’t all that creative. It would be easier to stick to a verifiable narrative. “Well my father and his father before him have been running the bookstore all my life. It was very natural to fall into the same.”

“And did you love to read as a child?” Anthony followed up quickly.

“I did,” Aziraphale returned, trying to keep the passion out of his voice but failing miserably. “I’ve always felt that books are passports, really. They take you to strange, exotic places. Introduce you to people you’d never meet otherwise. Sort of an adventure when you think about it.”

“Funny,” Anthony replied with amazement in his eyes. “I sort of had that experience. The part about being brought up with books. Escaping. I’m not sure I enjoyed it as much as you did.”

“You don’t like to read?” Aziraphale asked, poised to check off the one box that was keeping the other man from being categorized as a pure demon versus a merely evil capitalist.

“I don’t mean that,” Anthony clarified. “It was just, with all the books and stuff about, it was terribly easy to get lost in the shuffle. My father uh...wasn’t the most attentive parent. I inherited his business, but I can’t say I took it willingly.”

Aziraphale was all astonishment. He’d started a character sketch of Mr. Crowley after learning his true identity, perhaps even before then when he received the letter from Mega Books. Was there more to him than meets the eye? Or...more likely this was part of his game. Aziraphale tried to remain undaunted.

At that point, the waiter appeared and recorded their lunch orders on a small leather pad. When she left, Aziraphale caught Mr. Crowley’s downcast eyes and read something of tragedy in them. His heart tugged a little in response but in a snap, Anthony glanced back up and smiled, covering whatever he’d accidentally exposed in the moment.

“Tell me more about you, Aziraphale” he demanded softly. “What are your hopes and dreams?” His voice lilted at the end as if making a joke, thought Aziraphale was certain the question was asked in earnest. He delivered a sincere response.

“My hope is to continue running the shop as long as I can,” he said. “My dream is to keep everything in my life as it is. I quite abhor change, you see. To be honest, I don’t even really like selling my books. I wish everything could stay just as it is forever.”

That last confession made Aziraphale feel like he’d given away too much, but he was rewarded with careful study from his companion. Anthony appeared to be absorbing his statement, soaking it up and gently examining every nuance. When he was done, Anthony suspired, signaling the terminus of his silent assessment.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “Sometimes it feels like outside forces are constantly whacking me from the side like a wrecking ball. Why does everything always have to be bigger and better? New and improved! I do sometimes dream about getting away from it all. Maybe tuck away in a hidden cottage in South Downs.”

Their food arrived and Aziraphale dug in, grateful for the momentary lapse of dialogue. So far, this hadn’t been going along with his expectations. He wanted to dig deeper, to find out what Mr. Crowley had planned, but he wasn’t sure how to do it.

Anthony seemed to have his own ideas about steering the conversation, however. “What do you think about St. James Park?” he asked. Aziraphale snapped to attention.

“It’s lovely,” the shopkeeper said. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just sort of a hideaway for me,” Anthony responded, a little embarrassed. “When I’m stressed out I go feed the ducks. It takes my mind off of everything.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I couldn't agree more.”

“Anyways,” Anthony stumbled on. “I thought perhaps that maybe you would like to go with me sometime. Share a picnic. I’ve scouted out the most perfect spot! I think you’d like it.”

Aziraphale was too shocked to decline. “I’d love to.”

Anthony watched him finish off the last of his pasta. He’d hardly touched his own. “Then it’s a date,” he said softly. “Friday, if you like?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Can’t wait.”

-

“Can’t wait?!!!” Aziraphale was flinging junk mail into the bin. “Can’t wait?!!!”

What in the world had possessed him? He’d just agreed to a second outing with the one person who was trying to destroy everything he held dear!

After Mr. Crowley dropped Aziraphale off the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. It was as if he’d been momentarily hypnotized. There was something about Anthony that defied reason. How could he be so effortlessly charming in person, yet entirely deceitful all the while? Aziraphale was still fuming when he happened on a piece of mail that made his blood run cold.

He ripped open the envelope and seethed. Another dispatch from that odious being named Mr. A. Crowley. This letter informed him that the initial offer had doubled. Mega Books was most eager to settle the matter before the slated groundbreaking at the end of the month. There at the bottom, in perfect swirling audacity, was the irrefutable signature of his nemesis.

Aziraphale couldn’t wrap his head around it. In that moment, he adamantly vowed to confront Mr. Crowley that very Friday they had scheduled to spend together. He was going to get to the bottom of this ruse one way or another! He tucked the letter in his coat pocket and stewed.

Moving to his computer, he formulated a letter to Snek6k. Without supplying too much detail, he fumed about meeting his adversary and receiving further proof that the man was playing him for a fool. He hoped his online friend might have more advice, or else just let him vent about the lackluster results without judgement. Of course, he needn’t have worried. In a short hour he received a reply that was filled with empathy and more suggestions on how to deal with the problem. Aziraphale sighed in relief. At least someone understood his troubles.

-

Friday reared its ugly head more quickly than Aziraphale would have liked. When Anthony entered the shop it was everything he could do to refrain from causing a scene. Instead, Aziraphale smiled and grabbed his coat.

It was a bit chilly for a picnic, but Anthony ushered Aziraphale into the car all the same. Aziraphale couldn’t help but appreciate the antique Bentley, a rare sight in London or maybe the world. The pair shared light conversation on the way over while Aziraphale secretly plotted his confrontation. They couldn’t arrive at the park soon enough, although the way Anthony drove there was little doubt it wouldn’t.

Anthony led Aziraphale to a lush green spot next to a giant willow tree looking over the water. The ducks were quacking busily as they drifted over the surface, attempting to spot generous visitors who might throw out a crust or two. Unfortunately for them, it was not a busy day in the park. Anthony and Aziraphale had the place nearly to themselves.

Anthony spread out a large blanket and began unpacking the thatched basket he’d toted along. Aziraphale sat with a silent huff and glared suspiciously at the Mega Books mogul. His attention was stolen back, however, by the enticing contents of the basket. A chilled bottle of champagne. Crustless watercress sandwiches. Crisps from his favorite deli. Small petit four cakes that looked irresistible.

Aziraphale was so distracted that he didn’t notice Anthony was looking at him intently. “Is it alright?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure…”

Aziraphale laughed out loud. “It’s quite impressive!” he replied. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen its like!”

Anthony seemed to relax and popped the champagne bottle, pouring a few glasses to share. Aziraphale revelled in the bubbly sensation on his tongue and swallowed eagerly. The sun poked out of the clouds, warming the air considerably.

As they munched and chatted aimlessly, Aziraphale quite forgot about his plan. Snek6k had offered numerous ideas on baiting his adversary, but none of them seemed to come to mind now that the picnic was actually happening. Instead, Anthony was sputtering badly-paraphrased Keats poems while Aziraphale laughed shamelessly.

“That’s not how it goes,” Aziraphale insisted. “Its would I were ‘stedfast’ as thou, not ‘sped fast.’ You’re confusing the sonnet with your driving.”

“Oh that’s a cheap shot,” Anthony replied. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver.”

Aziraphale nearly choked on his champagne. “You seem to be in a race with the road itself!” he admonished.

“So bad driver, terrible poet, am I missing anything else or have you counted all my faults?” Anthony mused. He’d long ago stretched out his legs on the blanket to mirror Aziraphale. The two regarded each other, mere inches apart as they slowly drained the champagne bottle.

Aziraphale blinked, trying to remember when they had both laid down on their sides facing one another. Anthony’s red hair was catching the light, making him look like a siren basking in its glow. His eyes glinted as well, filled with tears brought on by several bouts of quaking laughter. Aziraphale watched as those eyes sharpened, looking at him like he was the only thing in the world. The air around them was charged.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure who leaned in first. Had he been forced to admit it, it was very likely himself. Their lips met tentatively, brushing so softly they may not have even touched. But Aziraphale wouldn’t be satisfied with a ghost kiss and pressed forward to steal something deeper. When Anthony’s tongue pushed into his mouth the champagne glasses were abandoned in the grass. Anthony rolled into Aziraphale, pinning him on his side as they enveloped one another. It was perfect. Until Anthony’s hand moved up and brushed against Aziraphale’s jacket pocket. The crinkling of paper was all it took to shock Aziraphale back to reality.

“Oh my god,” Aziraphale gasped, shooting straight up. “Oh my god. You’re good! You’re really good!”

Anthony was confused but took it as a compliment, stretching out his hands as if to say, ‘Thanks babe. You’re not bad yourself!’

Aziraphale grabbed the letter and held it between them like a weapon. “Your faults…” he said dizzily. “You asked if I was done counting them and I’m not. Not even near it!”

Anthony was now terribly confused, realizing the mood had shifted farther than he knew.

“You’re selfish! Manipulative! You’re the worst person I’ve ever met!” Aziraphale was shouting now.

Anthony rose up and held his hands out in front of him, turning very serious. “What’s going on?” he asked calmly. “What did I do?”

Aziraphale scoffed and threw the letter at him. “I know about Mega Books,” he stated like a triumphant barrister before resting a case.

“Mega Books?” Anthony replied dizzily. He still hadn’t opened the letter. “I just...I didn’t want you to think I was some stuck-up rich jerk. What does that have to do with…?”

Aziraphale was pointing at the piece of paper as if it might explode at any moment. Anthony took the hint and finally squinted at the contents. He stared at it for a long moment. He stared at it for so long that Aziraphale was starting to lose his nerve. He looked about at the wrecked picnic as if trying to piece together what exactly had just transpired.

When Anthony looked up at him finally, Aziraphale’s eyes blazed anew. “What do you say to that?” he shouted.

“Aziraphale,” Anthony started. “I’ve never seen this before.”

“Liar,” Aziraphale replied. “I can’t believe you’d continue on with this ridiculous game when the evidence is staring you smack in the face!”

“But I’m serious,” Anthony tried again. “Whatever this is, I’m not involved.”

“And your own signature on the page!” Aziraphale countered in disbelief. “You really think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”

Aziraphale was on his feet followed quickly by Anthony, who was still trying to speak reasonably. The shop owner was having none of it, however, and continued to storm off in the direction of the closest bus stop. When he reached the first one he spotted, Aziraphale started waving his arms at the incoming bus, which would have stopped anyways.

Anthony was exasperated when Aziraphale continued to ignore him despite anything he said. At last, he turned around just as the bus aligned with the curb and opened its doors.

“Don’t contact me again,” Aziraphale threatened. And with that, he was gone.

\- 

PART THREE

That night Aziraphale turned to Snek6k for comfort over instant message. Despite all of his complaints, Snek6k was completely understanding. Apparently he’d had a really rough day too. He told AngelFace that he thought he’d finally met someone special, but it hadn’t worked out. In a bold move, Aziraphale suggested that perhaps it was time for them to meet in person.

After a long pause, Snek6k replied in agreement. They arranged to meet at a coffee shop the following evening. Because they had never seen each other properly, Snek6k suggested that AngelFace carry a red rose. Although it was a little cliche, Aziraphale enjoyed the romantic notion and promised he would. Signing off at last, Aziraphale turned from his computer to look at the clock. They had chatted for almost three hours. He smiled at the thought. Perhaps things were finally turning around for him.

-

On Saturday night Aziraphale sat down at one of the tables at Prufrock Coffee and restlessly shifted in his chair. The rose rested near his napkin and he found himself rearranging it constantly. He’d brought a book with him as well just in case, but could hardly bear to look away from the door for a moment. A waiter came by to get his order and it took him almost two minutes to remember what he wanted.

“Cocoa,” he said at last. The waiter nodded and moved on.

He waited for at least ten minutes to no avail. Each time the door opened it was occupied by an old married couple, a teenager, or someone dressed like a Shakespeare character. Clearly, none of these candidates were Snek6k. He had almost given up when the door moved once more, and none other than Anthony Crowley came striding into the shop.

Aziraphale was mortified, and quickly hid his face behind the book. He waited patiently and counted to ten before daring to peek out from behind it. To his despair, Anthony was standing right in front of him, an equally shocked expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?” they both said at once. Anthony kept glancing at the rose nervously.

“Are you meeting someone?” he asked.

Aziraphale nodded. “Should be here any minute now, actually.”

Anthony sat down in the chair opposite him, much to Aziraphale’s chagrin. “Mind if I sit?” he asked afterward.

Aziraphale huffed. “In fact, I do,” he replied icily, but Anthony didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he picked up the flower.

“Hey!” Aziraphale complained.

“Sorry,” Anthony replied. “It’s just...I didn’t expect to see you.”

“And I you,” the shopkeeper replied.

The watier returned and set down a mug of cocoa in front of Aziraphale.

“And for you?”

Aziraphale interrupted the waiter, “He’s not staying.”

“Double latte, thanks,” Anthony was also saying. The waiter moved off to fill the order.

“I really don’t wish to speak with you,” Aziraphale muttered. “Can you please leave?”

Anthony twitched hesitantly. “I’m sorry, I just...I can’t go until I’ve said my piece.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. The door moved in the distance and both men turned to look at it. A waiter coming in to take a shift.

“Please,” Anthony begged. He watched Aziraphale nod resentfully and carried on. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I swear I never saw that letter. I sign documents all day, to the point that I don’t even read half of what I’m putting my signature on. Please believe me!”

Aziraphale looked less than convinced. “And I suppose you had no idea your new store was infringing on the neighborhood you just happened to be mucking about in?”

“Well,” Anthony couched. “I knew there had been some buyouts, but I wasn’t aware that your shop in particular was involved. The schematics I reviewed didn’t even cover the entire block. I’ve been speaking to some of my board members who informed me that an expansion was under review, but not finalized.”

The waiter interrupted to bring Anthony’s order over, breaking up their conversation.

“What book were you looking for?” Aziraphale demanded suddenly when they were alone once more. “That day you came by.”

Anthony slouched in his chair. “Vikram Seth,” he replied as if on trial. “Mappings.”

“But I have that! Hand set, written, and bound,” Aziraphale growled. “Why didn’t you ask?”

“I saw it on the shelf,” Anthony admitted. “But I got this strange premonition you didn’t want to part with it. Any of them. It enchanted me. The bookstore that doesn’t sell books. You shared that with me yourself...at the park.”

The door swung open and for the first time, Aziraphale didn’t notice. He tried to brush off Anthony’s explanations as subterfuge.

“Next I suppose you’ll tell me you’re halting the expansion,” Aziraphale grumbled.

Here, Anthony faltered. “I...I don’t know if I can. The board governs a large share of Mega Books. They always have. It’s not that I’m just a figurehead but there are larger concerns…”

“Larger concerns?” Aziraphale demanded. “You’re talking about my livelihood! My family legacy! If anyone has larger concerns, it’s me!”

Anthony tried to console him. “I understand, it’s just that it’s complicated. I can’t wave my hand and pull a quarter out of the air. These things take time.”

“Time is a benefit that I don’t have,” Aziraphale spat out. “And frankly, you’ve taken up enough of it for yet another day.”

Anthony withered on the spot as Aziraphale stood up, grabbing his book and flower. Without another word he stomped to the entrance and felt relieved when the cool night air hit his warm face. Turning around briefly, he caught the soft image of Anthony’s back, still sitting at the table. His head was buried in his hands, looking morose.

If it had been anyone else, Aziraphale would have felt sorry for him. Instead, he steeled his nerves and made his way home.

-

Aziraphale checked instant messager all evening, but Snek6k was nowhere to be found. Disappointed, Aziraphale finally turned off his computer and went to bed. He shifted uncomfortably in his sheets, wondering what had gone wrong. Perhaps Snek6k had a flat tire or ran into some other sort of trouble that prevented his arrival. Perhaps he’d simply changed his mind. Aziraphale waded through all of these possibilities before meditating once more on the figure of Anthony sitting alone in the coffee shop, despondent. A hot tear swelled up in the corner of his eye, threatening to spill down his cheek.

He didn’t want to think about him. He didn’t want to feel one ounce of pain over that loathsome individual. The one who had said he had nothing to do with the buyout. The one who reluctantly ran a multi-million dollar business. The one who read obscure poetry, apparently. The one who took him on a beautiful picnic. The one who knew just how dearly Aziraphale loved each and every one of his books.

The tear escaped onto the pillowcase, followed by many others. When he finally slept, Aziraphale did so with the blurry image of Anthony’s smiling face imprinted on his brain.

-

There was a long email waiting for Aziraphale in the morning. Snek6k had written to him around three in the morning with a profuse apology. Apparently he’d had to put off their date in order to work on a project. He couldn’t get away to meet Aziraphale in time. Although he felt let down, Aziraphale understood. He almost thought it was for the best. If Snek6k had walked in while Anthony was there, it would have been a disaster.

Anthony. Aziraphale sighed.

“Anthony!” he then cried out, seeing the man himself walk into the shop.

Anthony held out a large bouquet of peonies in supplication. “I hate how we left it last night,” he said mournfully. “I know that you hate me, and perhaps you’re right to, but I can’t go on knowing that I did nothing to fix it. I hope that we can be friends, if nothing else.”

Aziraphale considered the idea, but he was still too flabbergasted to form a coherent response. “Well I...um…” he attempted.

Anthony handed him the flowers and started to back away immediately. “And I’m sorry I ruined your date last night.”

“Hng,” Aziraphale scoffed. “Not much of a date if he never shows up.”

Anthony stopped backing up. “Oh! That’s awful. I didn’t know. I thought I’d put my foot in it.”

Aziraphale sighed as he inhaled the flowers. They were stunning. “It’s stupid anyways. We haven’t even met,” he admitted. “Online thing.”

“Really?” Anthony said attentively. “That must be interesting. What’s he like, then?” He dug his hands deep into his pockets.

Aziraphale hadn’t talked about the subject with anyone but Tracy, but he hadn’t even caught up with her since the launch party. Suddenly, he was dying to tell someone about it. Even if that someone was Mr. Crowley. And he did say he wanted to be friends…

“He’s great,” Aziraphale gushed. “Smart. Kind. A great listener.”

Anthony blushed. “He sounds wonderful.”

“I mean, it’s just…” Aziraphale said self-consciously, “Like I said, I’ve never met him. It seems silly to develop feelings for someone you don’t really know.”

“Ah,” Anthony replied thoughtfully. “Why exactly didn’t he show up last night? I mean, you had plans, obviously.”

Aziraphale’s cradled his chin in his hand as he leaned over the counter. “Well, that’s the thing, really. He said he had some project he was working on. I’m not sure what that means.”

Anthony tilted his head to consider this. “Oh. Oh no. A project. He’s married!”

Aziraphale tutted and rolled his eyes. “Is not!”

“And three, no probably four children,” Anthony teased.

Aziraphale laughed despite himself. “No way.”

“Maybe homebound, then,” Anthony continued. “Agoraphobic! I hope you like the indoors.”

The two laughed together at long length. “Or he’s corresponding from prison!” Aziraphale added. This nearly sent both of them to the floor in fits of giggles.

“But no, no no,” Aziraphale gasped as he clawed his way back to sobriety. “No I’m just certain he’s the best sort of person. I’ll take him at his word.”

“Alright,” Anthony smiled. “A pressing work project it is, then.”

-

After their reconciliation, the two couldn’t seem to stop running into each other. The farmer’s market, literary events, and the occasional drop-in from Anthony as he was casually on his way somewhere else in the neighborhood.

All the while, Aziraphale was becoming more and more open about the development of his relationship with Snek6k. Anthony was naturally suspicious of the fact the two still hadn’t met in real life, but offered helpful advice whenever he could. That, and a healthy dose of teasing all the while.

Aziraphale seemed to enjoy his company more each time they met. Anthony had many talents, including an ability to translate millennial abbreviations that had previously vexed Aziraphale. It became very natural to pop off to lunch with one another, or even trade text messages throughout the day. Between Anthony and Snek6k, Aziraphale found himself becoming a regular socialite.

Things shifted abruptly, however, the day the construction crew showed up at his doorstep. A massive foreman breezed through the door brandishing a piece of paper, which he shoved at Aziraphale’s chest.

“You were supposed to be gone three days ago,” the man said roughly.

Aziraphale scanned the paper with dismay. It was a court order to vacate the neighborhood to make room for Mega Books. It couldn’t possibly be true. The foreman stomped out to start yelling at his work crew while Aziraphale furiously dialed Anthony on his telephone.

After a few rings, Anthony picked up and sensed Aziraphale’s anxiety immediately.

“I’m on my way,” he promised. Aziraphale wrung his hands and sobbed.

-

PART FOUR

Aziraphale watched nervously out the window until the black Bentley swung up to the curb. Anthony jumped out and started an altercation with the foreman, who quickly had both hands up in the air, gesticulating wildly.

Tentatively, Aziraphale stepped out of the shop to watch the drama unfold. His heart soared when he saw Anthony’s protective glance toward the spot where he was standing.

“Ridiculous,” Anthony was arguing. “This is private property!”

“Tell that to the lien!” the foreman spat. “This guy hasn’t paid taxes in three years!”

Aziraphale stiffened. That was certainly false. He filed before the deadline every year.

Anthony continued to argue, but the foreman eventually lost interest. “Look, get your shit together,” he was saying over his shoulder. “We’re coming back next week and we’re going to get the job done one way or another!”

Aziraphale couldn’t fight the tears that were spilling down his cheeks as Anthony ran up to him, folding him into his arms.

“There’s been a mistake!” Aziraphale gasped. “I always pay my taxes!”

Anthony ran a soothing hand over Aziraphale’s head and pulled back to look him in the eyes. “We’re going to fix this,” he promised. “I’m not sure exactly what’s transpired but I swear I’ll find out. I won’t let anything happen to the shop.”

Aziraphale nodded, trying to believe in the words he was hearing. Anthony squeezed his shoulders one more time before turning away. “I’m going back to head office,” he said. “I’ll get in touch as soon as I’ve figured this all out. Please try not to worry!”

The shopkeeper nodded miserably, knowing that such a request was impossible.

-

Anthony stormed into the boardroom to confront its members. The group looked up inquisitively as he made his way to the president, Sandalphon. The balding man glanced at Anthony with little interest, and politely folded his hands as the executive ranted about the expansion plans.

“You must put a stop to this!” Anthony scowled. “There are people who make their living on that block! We don’t need an entire neighborhood’s footprint to run a successful location!”

Sandalphon leaned back in his comfortable office chair and smiled placidly. “But this has always been the plan,” he said smugly. “It was your father’s dream! His vision!”

“Well he’s not around anymore, is he?” Anthony said boldly. “And my vision is the complete opposite. Don’t make me pull rank.”

Sandalphon actually laughed while the rest of the board members shrank in their chairs. “Anthony,” he began. “You know I’m the majority shareholder. Your father couldn’t give me the company directly, but he found a way to make sure I was equipped to make the major decisions. I’m going to carry on his legacy, even where his own son failed.”

Anthony was livid. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” he managed to say without screaming. Sandalphon blanched. Anthony’s lawyer was an overwhelming presence, one of the best in the country. And a dark reputation to match. With that threat, Anthony flew out the door, slamming it behind him.

-

The office lights flickered when Grim Muerte stepped out of the elevator on the fifty-first floor. The receptionist didn’t ask for his name or direct him to Anthony’s office. Instead, she stared at her desk and cowered.

The office workers fell silent as he walked through the halls, each voice dying out in turn. Doors closed and phones stopped ringing. It was unusual to see Muerte in public, and many whispered prayers begged it remained that way.

Muerte entered Anthony’s suite and took a seat before the desk. Dressed all in black with skeletal features, the lawyer was intimidating to behold. For whatever reason, Anthony was one of few who didn’t shrink back on sight. Instead, Anthony respected Muerte’s formidable power, and used it sparsely to maximize its effect.

YOU SUMMONED ME.

Anthony nodded, eyes hard. Muerte’s voice was ancient and hollow. “I need to take down our major shareholder. Did you get the copy of our shareholder’s agreement I faxed earlier?”

I WOULD NOT BE HERE OTHERWISE.

“And what’s your verdict?” Anthony inquired. “Do we have a case?”

Muerte smiled, which nearly made Anthony shudder.

MR. SANDALPHON HAS BEEN PART OF THIS COMPANY FOR SOME TIME. SOME MIGHT SAY HE’S OVERSTAYED HIS WELCOME.. THERE’S BEEN SO MANY OPPORTUNITIES FOR WRONGDOING. CARELESS MISTAKES. YOU ASKED IF WE HAVE A CASE, BUT THIS WILL NEVER GO TO TRIAL. THERE’S NO NEED.

Anthony wanted to ask Muerte to elaborate, but he knew somehow that he didn’t want to know. “You’ll do what has to be done?” he asked.

I ALREADY HAVE.

Nobody knows exactly what happened next, only that the mood lightened considerably with Muerte’s departure. Within the hour, Sandalphon’s office had been vacated and his portions of the voting stock had been remitted. No one ever heard from him again, at least not directly. There were some rumors about him moving to Guatemala or some small island, but no one seemed particularly driven to uncover the truth of them. They just went about their lives as if nothing ever happened.

-

Aziraphale was beside himself. Not only had he heard nothing from Anthony, but Snek6k was also maintaining radio silence. He glanced around his shop lovingly, stroking the book covers and tidying the shelves. When he was a child this place was his paradise. He grew tired and depressed thinking that his Eden would be ending soon.

He tried to console himself by reasoning that he’d done everything he could do. There were larger powers at work he couldn’t change. And perhaps, if it was meant to be, he would find something else to focus on. He sighed heavily and sat down in his chair.

His thoughts turned to Anthony. He’d arrived within mere minutes of Aziraphale’s call, ready to fight for the shop and defend its keeper. Aziraphale kept thinking about how Anthony’s eyes flashed, his brave demeanor when confronting the foreman. The way he’d sped off in his Bentley like the future of the world was in peril, when it was only Aziraphale he was fighting for.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but think about their miserable rendezvous in the park. He was drawn back to his empty accusations, and everything Anthony had done since to prove him otherwise. He thought, with heavy emotion, about the kiss that they had shared. How even after Aziraphale’s total rejection of him, Anthony kept coming back to reconcile. It was like he didn’t know how to give up.

Aziraphale stared at his computer gloomily. If he met Snek6k in person, would he even compare? He tried to imagine the two men side by side. How would they be similar or different? His fantasy of Snek6k paled in comparison to the reality of Anthony. Maybe he should reconsider everything he thought he knew.

A rumbling car engine broke him from his daydreams and with startling realization, he glimpsed Anthony running up the steps to his shop excitedly. Aziraphale stood with bated breath.

Anthony burst in with a gleeful smile on his face. “It’s done,” he crowed. “It’s done and Mega Books won’t be expanding into your domain. The tax thing was a ruse by a scrofulous ex-colleague of mine. He’s gone now. It’s all back to how it was.”

Aziraphale was speechless. “But how?”

Anthony shrugged. “It helps to have friends in high places. Or low places, I’m not sure which. Let’s just say I have powerful resources at my disposal. The important thing is that you’ll keep the shop.”

Aziraphale didn’t think, but crossed the space between them and threw his arms around Anthony’s neck. He breathed heavily against his collar and swallowed hard.

“I don’t know what to say,” Aziraphale whispered. “Thank you, Anthony.”

Anthony was blushing when they pulled apart. He scratched the back of his neck, abashed. “It was nothing.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Anthony’s eyes went blank. “I expect you’ll be excited to tell your online friend that all is well. He must be worried sick.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale managed, trying to hide his disappointment, “Yes, I suppose he will be. I haven’t heard from him today.”

Anthony nodded. “Well, if today has taught us anything I think it’s to live in the present. Why don’t you try to meet with him again? Give it one more go. If he’s smart, he’ll take you up on the offer this time.”

Aziraphale retreated to an orange settee and drifted into its soft embrace. His heart was plummeting with every word of Anthony’s encouragement. Perhaps his budding feelings were not returned by the Mega Books owner. “Yes, well of course. I mean you don’t...wouldn’t you rather…?”

Anthony tilted his head in confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. Look, I’ve got to run. But trust me on this. I know you want everything to be the same, but maybe it can be the same and different at the same time. Who knows? Maybe your true love has been right beside you all along. You just need to reach out. If you don’t, you might both be played for suckers.”

Aziraphale’s eyes sharpened and a pang of hope shifted his understanding of everything. “What did you just say?”

“Sorry, gotta run,” Anthony called out over his shoulder. He was already out the door.

-

Aziraphale suggested that he and Snek6k meet in St. James Park the following afternoon. Luckily it was a sun-shiney day with puffy white clouds floating through the sky. Of course, this also meant that the park was filled with people. Aziraphale grew discomfited when he realized they’d made no plan this time for recognizing each other. How in the world was he supposed to pick Snek6k out of a crowd? One blurry partial shot of his face wasn’t going to help.

He wandered near the gazebo where they had promised to meet and looked around hopelessly. A wedding party had already taken up residence under the gazebo’s shade and were snapping pictures merrily. Women with strollers marched by while men in tracksuits jogged around college-aged sunbathers spread out on blankets. Aziraphale gazed around and was about to give up when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned and drew a shaky breath in before breathing out the name like a prayer. “Mr. Crowley.” His heart soared and his eyes filled with tears.

Anthony’s warm hand took his and lifted it to his lips. “Mr. Fell.”

They stood frozen while everything around them drifted away like a mirage.

“It was you,” Aziraphale croaked, choking on his own words. “I so hoped it would be you.”

Anthony’s eyes misted over as he drew Aziraphale near. “I didn’t know if you’d be happy to see me. Instead of...instead of someone else. Someone better, maybe.”

Aziraphale’s hands dug into Anthony’s forearms. “Why, my dear boy. There’s no such person.”

Anthony reeled him in and held him just inches from his mouth. “The last time I tried this it didn’t go so well. Promise me there’s no letter up your sleeve.”

Aziraphale laughed and a tear ran down his cheek. “I’ll go you one better. The only thing on my sleeve is my heart. And it’s yours if you want it.”

Anthony lowered his mouth to meet Aziraphale’s and kissed with all the tenderness in the world. “AngelFace,” he breathed. “My angel.”

Aziraphale kissed him again, melting into his strong embrace. “Just so,” he whispered.


End file.
